Secrets of Winter
by Lightningscar
Summary: Winter has come, and the dead have come with it. The only defense of the living is to learn the secrets of the past. But the passing of time has lost many of those secrets in the fog, and the Night King is on the move, growing stronger. And he is not about to let the secrets and truths of the past resurface.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Game of Thrones. And this should in no way or form be seen as a fic attempting to predict season 8. This just something that has been on my mind, nagging me to no end.**

 **And fair warning: Some cursing, but I don't think it should warrant a M-rating.**

" _And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth."_ \- Lady Galadriel, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

Long Forgotten Past

Standing atop the Wall, the cold winds were biting into his skin, tousling his hair. And yet, the cold wasn't as biting as it could have been… in fact, he barely even registered it. Looking around, the youth took in everything around him.

The sky above him was alit with the moon and stars, bathing everything in a pale silvery light, allowing his wandering eyes to trace the Frostfang Mountains on his left, the mountain range running far to the south and north.

Behind and far below him, perhaps two-hundred feet down, the shouting and noise of construction drifted up to his ears, causing him to glance over his shoulder and downwards. Thousands of men were hard at work, hauling large blocks of ice and stone towards the construction site, the horses whinnying and snorting as they dragged the ice, rock and tree trunks towards what would become the largest construction ever build. But it wasn't just men working down there.

Huge giants were using their massive strength to move entire trees towards the structure, while others used their hands to hammer tree trunks into the ground like a man would a tent peg, and others still were lifting timber, rock and ice, putting it into place.

But the men and giants weren't the only ones hard at work. Small figures, that only could be Children of the Forest, were darting back and forth, some riding elks, bears, direwolves or other animals, while others were drawing strange symbols on the ground.

And it wasn't just directly below him that this strange horde of builders was at work. To the east and west, for several miles, an army of men, giants and Children of the Forest, were working to raise the greatest construction Westeros had ever seen.

"I cannot believe that it is over."

Eyes turning forwards, the young Three-Eyed Raven took in the four people standing slightly in front of him, all gazing north.

The one who spoke was a young man, maybe six summers older than Bran, with a tall but elegant build beneath the large cloak hanging of his shoulder, his long dark hair curling, and when Bran took a few steps around them so that he could look at them and the north, he saw reserved grey eyes staring out at the wilderness with relief and disbelief, frost giving the man's gruff black beard a greyish hue.

"Over? We may have won the day, young chief Brandon Stark, but the war is far from over."

Bran's eyes drifted slightly downwards, focusing his attention on the Child of the Forest standing on Brandon's left, not all that surprised that the man was his ancestor who founded his House, Bran the Builder. The Child was a male wearing white face-paint resembling a snarling wolf with piercing yellow-green eyes, long green hair, and what looked like a bear pelt wrapped around his green-grey body. The Child was looking towards the northern horizon, towards the last still visible peak of the Frostfang Mountains, a dragonglass tipped spear at his side. "The Night King may have suffered a defeat, but he is far from vanquished. Be it tomorrow, a moon cycle, a year, or hundreds or thousands of years from now, when your bones have long since turned to dust… if we cannot find him and destroy him, his return is inevitable."

"Impossible. Brandon pierced the Night King with Lightbringer."

Bran's gaze shifted again, this time to his furthest left. The one who spoke this time was a woman with silvery white hair put in a braid, dark blue-green eyes and tanned skin. She wore a large woollen cloak lined with fur, a sword hanging over her shoulder, its crimson scabbard against the white cloak making it look like her back had been carved open.

A dull thud sounded to Bran's right, drawing his gaze towards the sound. There, lying in front of them was a sword, radiating a diminishing heat… or rather, the remains of a sword: the hilt and three inches of blade. And what remained of the blade was heavily damaged and looked like it would break any second. Eyes shifting to his furthest right, the young Stark saw another male Child of the Forest. This one wore red face-paint, forming a flame in his face, complimenting his red hair, and appeared to be wearing small red leather armour and fox skin. Armed with a double-tipped dragonglass spear and two small dragonglass short-swords, there was no doubt that this Child was a fighter. And like some fighters who had seen too much bloodshed, his voice was harsher and more cutting than his weapons.

"There! There you have the peak of Men's magic! The sword called Lightbringer, prophesised by humans to bring an end to the war. It survived twelve strikes from the Night King's ice blade before shattering upon the thirteenth, when the chieftain landed a lucky hit on the enemy. Chieftain Brandon Stark is lucky to be alive. If it wasn't for Azor-a Áh Hái and myself…"

The other Child sighed tiredly "R´hllor, please. Now is not the time."

R'hllor turned his head towards the other Child. "Not the time? No, Azor-a Áh Hái, this is not the time. The time would have been before Nissa Nissa foolishly sacrificed-"

"Do not insult my sister's sacrifice, gnome!" Bran's eyes turned to the woman who was glaring murder at the two Children, hands tightening at her sides, the right making small shakes upwards, like she could barely control her urge to reach for her sword. Eyes flashing and lips pulling up in a snarl, the woman stepped in front the Children, looking like she was ready to tear them apart. "You told us that there is power in sacrifice! Especially when an innocent willingly sacrifices themselves! And you said that it would take powerful magic to defeat the Night King!"

"Valyri, please. It's not their fault" The Builder's pained voice was easily heard between them as he hesitantly stepped forward, tears threatening to fall from his eyes, placing a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder. "The fault is mine… I was desperate, I will admit it. When Nissa Nissa came to me, saying that she had spoken with the two most powerful greenseers, R'hllor and… forgive me, I still cannot pronounce your name… Azor Ahai?"

R'hllor snorted, his face pulling into a mix of amusement and disgust, while Azor-a Áh Hái just smiled good-naturedly as he replied. "Close enough."

Brandon nodded before sighing. "As I said, Nissa Nissa came to me, saying that she had spoken with R'hllor and… Azor Ahai… and that they had told her how to defeat the Night King: Through powerful magic, most likely obtained through the sacrifice of a willing person." He sighed once more. "Nissa Nissa had seen how warlocks and sorceresses could coat their weapons in fire by sacrificing some of their blood. Nissa Nissa reasoned that if a sorceress were to allow her heart to be pierced by a sword in a selfless sacrifice, the sword would become unbreakable and forever coated in flames... if not turn the blade itself to fire. It would be a mighty weapon against the Dead and their Masters. But when I said I could not do it..."

The legendary Stark took a deep and shaky breath. "I tried putting the sword away and to calm her down. At first, she grew agitated and angry, then desperate, almost pleading. But I managed to calm her down and talk her out of it… or at least I thought I had." A single tear ran from his eyes and down into his beard. "As I said, I was desperate. We had been fighting the White Walkers for a generation, if not more. When Nissa Nissa asked, right after telling me that she had spoken with the Greenseers, what I would be willing to do if it meant a chance of finally defeating the Night King, I said I would be willing to do anything… then she told me her theory of how to defeat the Night King and that she would sacrifice herself… and I could not do it."

Tears rolled freely down the Builder's cheeks. "We argued for a long while, but just as I thought I had calmed her down and talked her out of it, she said: 'You said you would do anything. That includes sacrificing me. Is the defeat of the Great Other not worth that sacrifice?' When I told her no, she grew despondent and then… she kissed me and… and then… she said she was sorry and wished that we would have had more time together and… and then… she grabbed my arm and stabbed herself through the heart with my sword."

Taking a few shaky breaths, the founder of House Stark wiped his eyes. "Why… why did she have to die for naught? Why did it not work? The sword cut down countless wights and I killed five White Walkers in a row… but still… it was not enough. It did not even slow him down, did not even faze him."

Both Children gave each other slightly uneasy looks, and seemingly coming to an agreement, R'hllor spoke first.

"Nissa Nissa was right about several things: There is power in sacrifices, especially if the one to be sacrificed does so willingly and without fear. And she was right when she assumed it would take powerful magic to kill the Night King or, as some have taken to calling him, the Great Other." He sighed. "But she forgot one vital thing, and we tried to tell her, but then we were attacked, and by the time the battle was over, she was long gone."

Valyri turned her attention from Brandon, who were now looking at the Children once again, eyes slightly puffy. It was, however, Valyri who spoke first. "What did she forget?"

Once again, the two Children looked at each other, before R'hllor answered. "She forgot that the Night King was created by the some of the most powerful magic our people possess. You call us the Children of the Forest, but as I am sure you have realized by now, we have been around for far longer than Man. Our magic is older and far more powerful than what the warlocks and sorceresses beyond the sea possess, even with over half of our greenseers gone." He closed his eyes. "Still, I will give recognition where recognition is due. Foolish as it was, your sister's sacrifice gave birth to something powerful. It is possible, though I doubt it, that if she had known the secrets of the Night King, she may have been able to create something powerful enough to, at the very least, wound him."

Bran was listening with rapt attention, and so were his ancestor and the woman. But unlike him, they didn't seem to register the air getting colder from the north. Still, he forced himself to ignore the cold and focused on the conversation.

"All the secrets?" Brandon frowned. "What do mean by all the secrets? We all know that he was created by your people to fight against us a long time ago, that he was once a man himself before your people shoved a dagger into his heart, somehow transforming him into the Night King, the first of the White Walkers."

Azor-a Áh Hái nodded his head slowly, but his voice was clear. "Yes, that is why and how we created him. What you fail to understand, however, is the importance of those two things. For they mean everything in how to possibly defeating him."

The Child sighed, closing his golden eyes as he continued his account. "Man was cutting down our sacred trees, killing us wherever they went. Twice we had tried stopping them by raising the hammers of the waters… twice we failed. We came to the realization that to battle Man, we needed to turn Man against Man. Thus we created the Night King, the Man killer. That dagger of zīrtys perzys… it is the key to his creation… and destruction."

Valyri looked at the two Children for a long moment before, from her belt, took out a dragonglass knife. "Zīrtys perzys… where I am from, we call it frozen flame."

R'hllor nodded. "A good translation. Mount Obsidian, on an island in the far south, is an entire mountain of it, but it was not always so. Mount Obsidian, which we called Mountain of Fire, used to be a large nesting ground for the great Fire Serpents, the heat of the rivers of liquid fire running down the mountain attracting the Fire Serpents. But when we raised the hammers of waters, the rising waters across the seas cooled the mountain, leaving only zīrtys perzys in place of the liquid fire."

Valyri frowned. "What does that have to with anything?"

"Everything," was R'hllor's immediate response. "Zīrtys perzys is fire made solid. One could say it is an eternal flame."

Azor-a Áh Hái nodded, taking up the narration. "Yes. And fire is energy." Opening his eyes once more, the greenseer continued. "As I said, Man was cutting down us and our sacred trees, burning the forests and everything living in them. So in order to battle Man, we created the Night King… by turning Man's weapons and strengths against them."

Brandon frowned. "I still don't understand."

Azor-a Áh Hái sighed. "Think, chief Brandon Stark. What is Man's strength? Your weapons were, and still are, superior to ours. We called upon our magic to cause cold so intense that the metal weapons made by humans would shatter. Man used fire to burn the forests: We called upon our magic to make our warrior immune to fire. The zīrtys perzys strengthened this immunity; not even the fire from the Great Fire Serpents can harm him. And we called upon our magic to make sleep, food and drink unnecessary for our warrior. Finally, you far outnumbered us, so we gave our warrior the ability to raise your fallen and use them against you. All of that magic, put into a single zīrtys perzys dagger."

All three humans, two living in that era and third a mere observer from a distant future, had all gone deadly pale. Bran was beginning to understand where this was going, and he didn't like it one bit. And neither did Valyri, her face twisting into rage once more.

"And you knew this? You knew our weapons would be ineffective against the Night King? And you never told us?!"

Azor-a Áh Hái sighed, closing his eyes again. "We suspected it, but until Nissa Nissa's sacrifice, we were not sure."

Valyri was far from impressed, and for a moment it looked like she would strangle the two Children or throw them from over the edge of the Wall. "So you waited to share your suspicions until you were certain? Why? Have you any idea of how many lives you could have saved if you had told us this sooner? Do you?!"

Neither of the Children seemed fazed by her outburst. Instead, R'hllor closed his eyes and answered rather calmly. "We would have doomed everyone if he we had told you sooner. For, had we told you, we would have taken away something even more important than knowledge of the enemy."

Valyri frowned. "What?"

R'hllor opened his eyes again, meeting the woman's furious gaze. "Hope. For when the night is dark and full of terrors, you need hope to believe you can win and see the sun rising at dawn. That was what we were trying to tell Nissa Nissa: The mighty Lightbringer was not a magical blade to be held by one person; Lightbringer is the blade living inside every living person, giving them the strength and courage to keep fighting, no matter how hopeless the war may seem."

Silence reigned for a long moment, Valyri and R'hllor were staring each other down. Then, Valyri spoke, her voice low and dangerous. "You arrogant little treeshaggers. You created that creature in order to kill your enemies, us, but when we became your allies, you still withheld information that could lead us to victory. Tell me, how many have died for your arrogance? How many thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of men, women and children could you have saved? Or is that number higher than there are stars in the sky?"

"And how many died when you invaded?" R'hllor countered sharply, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You- "

"R'hllor, enough." Azor-a Áh Hái interrupted calmly. Opening his eyes, his gaze shifted from the two past humans to the north. "We were arrogant… or perhaps, we were just blinded by our grief and anger… much like you are now, Valyri of the East."

Eyes unflinching, voice never rising or dropping, the Child easily held the attention of all the humans. "We had long seen our doom at the hands of Men. And like any other creature living in this world, we fought with everything we had to postpone the inevitable. So great was our blindness, that we failed to see that we were creating a far worse evil than the one who were already destroying us. However, Valyri of the East," and for the first time, something dangerous seemed to flicker in his eyes "Do not think yourself better than us. You too have kept a lot of things secrets. Things that may, or may not, have made a difference. Like that sword you are carrying now… it would not have been able to kill the Night King or any of the White Walkers, but I saw it being able to block an ice blade. How many could not have been saved if you had shared the secrets of making more swords like that?"

The tension in the air was so thick that Bran doubted a Valyrian sword could have cut it. The two Children bore matching expressions of neutrality, the Builder anxiety, but Valyri's face was a mask of disbelief and fury. And it showed in her voice.

"How do you know that? You and your kind were not near me that day."

Neither Child smirked nor smiled, but Azor-a Áh Hái answered her question in a matter of fact tone. "There is little we do not see. Past… present… even the many paths of the future is visible to our eyes." For the briefest of moments, Bran was sure Azor-a Áh Hái's eyes landed on him, but when the greenseer of the past continued, his gaze was focused on Valyri. "And I implore of you now: Give up on your family's quest before more people die in vain."

Valyri's eyes narrowed dangerously, her response something between a dangerous hiss and snarl. "What? What did you just say to me?"

Brandon frowned, looking between the Children and Valyri. "What? What quest?"

"It matters not!" Valyri snapped, never taking her eyes from the Children. "How dare you? How dare you repeat that my sister died in vain?"

R'hllor raised an eyebrow. "We are not talking about Nissa Nissa. We are talking about the people who will needlessly die when you and your line foolishly continues your attempts to control the embodiments of flame."

Brandon's eyes widened. "The embodiments of flame… wait, no, don't tell me… the Fire Serpents!" Head whirling, he stared at the woman with incredulity. "Valyri, the Fire Serpents cannot be controlled by humans, even if they are wargs! Even the Children's wargs and greenseers do not take command of the Fire Serpents without good reason and serious consideration!"

"Without serious consideration?" Valyri's voice had completely changed, Bran noticed, an eagerness replacing her fury from before. "So it can be done? The Fire Serpents can be controlled?"

The two Children, Bran thought, either didn't pick up on her shift in voice, or simply didn't care, for R'hllor answered her with a somewhat indifferent matter. "Both Azor-a Áh Hái and I have taken control of the Fire Serpents before, over thousands of moons ago. We did it to move them east to the mountains of fire, the volcanos, so that they would not burn down the forests or encroach on the territory of the Ancient Ones."

All of the humans, past and present, frowned, the Bran the Builder voicing their question. "The Ancient Ones?"

Azor-a Áh Hái nodded. "They are the oldest and most powerful of the Ice Dragons. According to the legends of our people, their breath created the glaciers in far the north."

Valyri's eyes snapped towards Azor-a Áh Hái. "Ice Dragons?" The two Children nodded once, apparently not seeing the hungry look in the woman's eyes. "Are they like the Fire Serpents?"

Azor-a Áh Hái shook his head. "No. The Ice Dragons are far larger, older and smarter than the Fire Serpents…and they can fly."

"How do you control such beasts?"

Azor-a Áh Hái's face darkened. "We do not. We use our abilities to enter their minds in order to speak with them, nothing else. And even if a warg could take control of them, he or she would need extraordinary power to accomplish such a task… power far beyond my own."

R'hllor chuckled. "And that will never happen, my friend. The human tongue is still strange to me, your name, Azor-a Áh Hái, means, roughly translated to the tongues of Men, Animal Spirit Walker… or warrior.. It is a silly name, but there is no question that you are the most powerful warg. No warg can surpass you."

This time, it was Azor-a Áh Hái's turn to chuckle. "A silly title indeed… not that yours is much better, R'hllor… or should I say, Flame Chieftain?" R'hllor grimaced, causing the other Child to chuckle again, before a pensive frown crossed his face. "But you are wrong. I may be the most powerful skinchanger tonight, but I will be surpassed. I have seen it. Even now, I can sense his presence… a human boy."

For several seconds, the only sound heard were the noise of construction and the cold wind howling. Then, R'hllor started laughing. "A human boy… surpass you as a skinchanger? Azor-a Áh Hái, have you been eating too many mushrooms again? Or is your grasp of your power simply slipping?"

Azor-a Áh Hái simply shrugged. "Believe what you will, R'hllor. Many a thing is hidden in the fogs of the future, but I see me being surpassed quite clearly." His gaze turned to Valyri. "Just as I see quite clearly that whether you and your line succeed or fail in your quest, the outcome for all will be the same: Destruction and death, and their offspring, misery, sorrow and hatred."

Silence reigned for more than a minute, but then Valyri spoke, her voice and eyes colder and harsher than the ice they were standing on and the air they were breathing. "You are wrong, treeshagger. My quest will succeed, be it in mine, my children or their children's time. And when it does, it will bring order to a chaotic world and the only ones who will be destroyed and wail in misery and hatred will be those who oppose us… or wronged us in the past. So… you can help me now, or be destroyed when I or those of my line returns."

She was met by the gazes of two very unimpressed, bordering on bored, looks from the Children, making it clear that they had absolutely no interest in helping her. Eyes narrowing at the two Children, Valyri growled under her breath, before turning her eyes to Brandon, her gaze and voice softening. "And what about you Brandon? Will you help me? Think of what we can do with the Fire Serpents at our beck and call. Should the Night King return, we can use them to keep him and his armies at bay. You will never have to fear any man or monster again." Her gaze softened even more. "Please… for Nissa Nissa… come with me to the East. Leave this accursed place and cold for a time and return with fire made flesh and create order among all the clans. Is that not what you wanted? To see an end to the fighting of the clans? With the Fire Serpents under your command, you and your family to come will ensure that the fighting between the clans will never start again. You will rule and pass out judgement upon those who have wronged you and your kin without fear of retribution. Is that not what you wanted?"

Brandon closed his eyes, and despite the cold creeping up on them, no one spoke. Then, Bran the Builder exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the dark night. "When I was five, I wanted to kill those who took my father away. When I was eight, I wanted to kill those who killed my mother. And when I was twelve, I wanted to destroy the Night King and all of his minions when they killed my older and one of my younger brothers, leaving me, my younger sister and youngest brother Benjedd on our own."

He sighed. "I took revenge for my father and mother… just like they did for their fathers and mothers, and as have been done for generations before them. In return, the other clans retaliated, and I lost my only sister. It was only the threat of the Night King and White Walkers that managed to stop the fighting."

The founder of House Stark shook his head as he opened his eyes, looking into the sky. "We waged war and fought each other for so long… I wonder if the clans even remember why or how the fighting started… Stark, Dustin, Bolton, Children of the Forest… in the end, all flesh and blood… blood spilled needlessly… I have had my fill of bloodshed… of death." Eyes turning from the sky, he met the gaze of Valyri. "I cannot go with you, Valyri. My place is here, helping to rebuild this torn country. And," swallowing, he gave the two Children a wary look before focusing on her again, "and if two greenseers say that the Night King is likely to return and that your quest to tame the Fire Serpents will fail… then I will heed their warning. No amount of lives is worth the Fire Serpents destructive power."

For a moment, Valyri looked like Brandon had slapped her. Then, her expression, eyes and voice turned harsher and colder than the unforgiving lands north of the Wall, as her eyes narrowed at the founder of House Stark, letting out a mix of a hiss and a snarl. "I cannot believe it. Brandon Stark, the man my sister loved, the man who led the charge against the Night King alongside the so-called mighty Azor-a Áh Hái and R'hllor… is a fucking coward. You have the chance to seize everything you desire, but you do not have the guts to try grasping it."

Brandon met her steely gaze evenly. "No… I have the guts not to… especially if realizing my dream means the deaths of countless others."

Valyri scoffed. "To realize one's own dream, the dreams of others have to be sacrificed. Just as that the only thing paying for life is death." She shook her head. "You were so fierce, Brandon Stark, like a true direwolf. But now… now you are just like a wounded dog: Pathetic." Turning on her heels, she started marching towards where, if the indent in the Wall was anything to go by, a staircase had been carved. However, just before descending, she turned her head, giving them all hateful looks. "You can stay here with those treeshaggers all you want, Brandon Stark. But with or without yours and theirs help, I and those of my line, will succeed in our quest. We will prove you wrong… and when we do, we will return and we will have justice for your insolence… especially yours, you little bastard treefuckers. With fire and blood, I will kill all of you… and all those who stand in my way."

With that, she walked down the stairs, out of sight, the gazes of the four males following her. The Three-Eyed Raven followed the woman with a slightly curious look, the two past greenseers with unimpressed expressions, while Bran the Builder wore a deep frown and slightly worried look.

"Do you think she meant that?"

R'hllor sighed. "It does not matter. This meeting went as we foresaw."

Brandon frowned, turning his gaze towards the two Children. "What?"

Azor-a Áh Hái let out weary sigh. "Seeing the future is like navigating and changing the flow of a strong river in a heavy mist: You may be able to see the bends and dangers here and now, but you cannot see all the new dangers, nor can you see what the changes have brought until you have travelled down the river." He sighed. "And yet, at other times, it is easy to see it all, but difficult, if not impossible, to steer clear of the dangers."

The founder of House Stark's frown deepened. "What are you talking about?"

R'hllor sighed. "The only reason we invited Valyri of the East to join us tonight was because we hoped to dissuade her from pursuing her quest of taming the Fire Serpents. Not because it is doomed to fail and it will cost countless lives… but because we fear what will happen if she does succeed."

Bran watched how the eyes and mouth of his ancestral namesake opened so wide that he looked more like a fish out of water than a human. "Wh-wha-what? Are you… are you saying that she will succeed?!"

Azor-a Áh Hái shook his head. "No. She will not succeed… but her line might… and if they do, it will cost even more lives than if they fail. If they succeed, they will bring nothing but death and destruction to all."

The frown returned to Brandon's face. "What do you mean?"

Azor-a Áh Hái shook his head once more and let out a sigh. "R'hllor has seen it in the fires, and I have seen it in my dreams: Valyri's descendants may succeed in getting some control of the Fire Serpents… but if they do, it will lead to their ruin." The Child frowned. "The Fire Serpents they may gain some control over will not be able to match the amount of fire as the Fire Serpents, and their fire will be colder, but they can cover far greater distances as they can fly. Valyri's line will seek to empower their fire, both amount and ferocity, by experimenting with the flowing fire within the earth through sorcery… and it will cause their destruction." He closed his eyes. "Fire, ash and smoke will swallow the sky… the great waters will rise again and hills and mountains will be torn asunder. A culture lost… and that is not the worst."

Brandon looked like someone had pulled his intestines out his mouth and was now trying to force them back the same way. "Wha-wh-wha- what? No-not the wor-wo-worst? An entire culture lost, and it is not the worst? What could possibly be worse?"

Azor-a Áh Hái opened his eyes, staring first at Brandon, then towards the unforgiving lands to the north. "The Night King." Upon glancing at Brandon, and seeing his uncomprehensive look, the greenseer frowned before sighing, gaze turning northwards once more. "If we fail in tracking down and destroying the Night King, he will go into a deep trance, almost like a bear hibernating, deep within the earth and icy mountains. And unless we manage to stop them, the doom of Valyri's descendants is what will wake him anew, and he will return stronger than ever."

The Builder looked like he had just gotten his innards stuffed down his mouth, and now someone else was trying to pull them out again. "Stronger than ever? How? When?"

Azor-a Áh Hái shook his head. "I do not know. I have only seen vague images… visions that do not make any sense."

Still visibly shaken, Bran the Builder took a few deep breaths, but Bran instantly noticed the difference when his ancestor spoke again. The older Stark's face and eyes had turned steely, making it clear that he would fight with anything he had. "Tell me, Azor Ahai. What have you seen? Even vague images can make the difference if the Night King returns."

The greenseer frowned, ignoring the butchering of his name, before giving a small nod. "You are right. Man needs everything that might give them a fighting chance." His gaze narrowed towards the north, his frown deepening. "Assuming the Night King reawakens, he will summon his elite fighters before rebuilding his army. It will be a long time, by human standards, before he makes his presence known."

Brandon frowned. "So he will stay hidden before launching his assault? How long? How long a warning will we get before he shows his hand?"

Azor-a Áh Hái frowned. "I do not know… I cannot see it clearly." He closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and shaking his head. "I see a manmade seat, made of Man's blade, resting atop a foundation of corpses and skulls. It looks solid and strong, but the foundation will soon start falling apart, from the inside out… and soon, the only thing keeping the seat standing is the web of a spider as lions, wolves, stags, snakes, falcons and roses move around it, tearing and ensnaring each other. When this happens, the first signs of the enemy's return will be known." The greenseer's frown deepened. "The Night King will make his war when a mockingbird starts undoing the web of the spider and building its nests, causing it and the spider to engage in a fierce battle of control of the web. The other animals will fall through holes or be suffocated in the web before the seat finally topples and shatters in a chasm beneath it… and all the while, the enemy only gains strength."

Brandon the Builder's frown deepened. "A spider and mockingbird… do you think they are wargs?"

Azor-a Áh Hái sighed. "I do not know. What I do know, is that should the Night King return, your family will be required to fight him once more."

Brandon took a shaky breath. "We are not ready for another war with the Night King. What about this… wall? Will… will our efforts to build this war be in vain?"

Azor-a Áh Hái looked at R'hllor, before looking back at the founder of House Stark. "This wall will be built by more than just wood, stone and ice, Brandon. We are putting some of our strongest magic into its foundation… and it involves you."

The Builder's brow furrowed with confusion. "Me? How?"

This time, it was R'hllor who answered. "We are building this wall on the very front where the Night King and his hordes were defeated in the last great battle. You bled here; lasting longer on your own against the Night King than any man ever did, almost bleeding out. Through you blood, willingly and fearlessly sacrificed to keep your family, friends and allies safe, we will strengthen this line of defence with our magic. As long as you, one from your family, or one of your direct descendants man this wall, it will never fall to the Night King."

Azor-a Áh Hái nodded. "There must always be a Stark at this wall. And there must always be a Stark at your settlement."

Brandon tilted his head. "At Winterfell? Why?"

R'hllor answered. "For we will use the same spells as the one we are casting here, to create a safe haven, should this wall fall. But be warned: If this wall or Winterfell is ever left unmanned by someone from your line, the magical protection will weaken… if not fail completely. "

The Builder gave a curious frown. "But why? Winterfell isn't the largest settlement or fort."

R'hllor nodded. "True. But you have built your settlement around a very important place: The R'hllian weirwood and pond."

The founder of House Stark blinked owlishly, gaping at the red-painted Child. Then, he snorted and a smirk started tugging on his lips. "So you will put some of your most powerful spells on my fort because my family has built it around one of your sacred trees and a pond named after you? Don't you think that is a little vain?"

R'hllor sighed, like one does when you don't believe someone's stupidity. "Ignorant fool. The weirwood and pond is not named after me, but R'hllian, or as you would call her, Chieftain of the Water, a powerful greenseer and healer. She died over five-hundred years ago, but the water retains its healing power to this day… if you can align yourself with its energies, you can use it to heal just about any injury save from a severed limb."

Brandon's eyes widened. "Wha-what? Are you saying that the water in that pond can be used to heal our wounded?"

Azor-a Áh Hái nodded. "Yes. But it is not easy. Among all the greenseers of her time, only R'hllian learned how. Even I know only a few of the secrets of that water. Firstly, it formed partly from the dying body of an Ice Dragon and the hot water found underground. I don't know all the details, but R'hllian eased the dragon's passing and in gratitude, the dragon allowed R'hllian to draw its energy into the tree. That tree is very old, filled with energy from every greenseer that has ever come across it, and its roots run very deep… and right into the pond. This formed a never ending energy circle: the tree providing the water with its energies and the pond providing the tree. I don't believe even R'hllian at the time realized what had happened."

Brandon frowned slightly. "I guess that it is those energies that give the water its healing properties?" Both Children nodded. "So… how do you align yourself with them?"

Azor-a Áh Hái sighed. "That is the problem. We do not know… that knowledge died with R'hllian. We only know that for you to have a chance to align yourself with them, you need to have a massive amount of energy yourself… and you need to be born with it, like R'hllian was. To anyone else… it is just normal water, being heated by the warm underground water."

Bran's ancient ancestor sighed. "Understood." Biting his lip, his eyes drifted north, his breath visible in the cold night air. "What is the plan now? How do we prepare for another war against the Night King?"

R'hllor sighed. "I will go to the East. Valyri and her family are not the only ones trying to gain control of the Fire Serpents... but there are also those who, with good reason, fears what a failed attempt to tame the Fire Serpents will bring. I will go warn them and, hopefully, they will be able stop the madness of Valyri and her ilk. Hopefully this will be enough to stop the catastrophe in the East and thus stop the Night King, should we fail in hunting him down, from reawakening and bringing another age of cold, darkness and death."

Azor-a Áh Hái nodded, gazing north. "I will lead the hunt on the Night King myself. On your horses, you may be faster than us, but in the dense forests and mountains, our race moves faster. I will bring the fastest and strongest giants, the smartest and best fighters among us, and any twenty good human man and woman willing… if they can keep up." He sighed once more, this time more wearily. "I will also bring Leaf, the young girl who turned the Night King. She may be able to track him based on the bond between them."

The Child's gaze moved from the hostile northern land towards the young founder of House Stark. "As for you, young Chieftain Brandon Stark, I cannot tell you what to do. But my advice to you is: Build this wall. And even when it reaches across the land, from west and all the way to the eastern shore, keep building. Make the wall reach the skies if need be. And remember… remember our warning: There must always be a Stark manning this wall and in Winterfell. And remember the conflict between Men and us, and what horror was unleashed because of it. Remember the age of darkness you were born into and warn those who come after you that the enemy is still out there. Remember, Chieftan Brandon Stark."

The Builder nodded his head. "I will. I will remember and remind everyone of this age of darkness. The North will remember. I swear it on my blood, I swear it on the blood of those who came before me, and I swear it on the blood of those who will come after me. The North will remember and be ready to face the enemy once more. I swear it on the power of the gods."

Both Children regarded the founder of House Stark. Then, Azor-a Áh Hái smiled. "You have courage, young chieftain. And I believe you will do all you said. That is why I think we can tell you one more secret. Do you agree, R'hllor?"

The red-painted Child nodded. "I agree,"

Once more, the Builder's face scrunched up in confusion and curiousity. "One last secret? What is that?"

Azor-a Áh Hái smiled. "Remember what we told you about how the Night King was created with a dagger made of zīrtys perzys, and how it is the key to his creation and destruction?" Brandon nodded once, and his descendant leaned closer in as well, listening intently. "Indeed. He was created through a zīrtys perzys dagger imbued with some of our most powerful magic... and he can be destroyed with an equally powerful spell imbued zīrtys perzys blade. We will bring such weapons with us, but we are leaving one here, at this first fort you are building. Should we fail, this one zīrtys perzys blade must survive. Build this fort, this castle, to be the largest of them all."

Brandon nodded, but then frowned. "It makes good sense to keep a weapon in reserve… but why would I need to build the fort below to be the largest of them all?"

Azor-a Áh Hái smiled, almost mischievously. "For the fort will need to be large to host the blade's guardian."

The Builder's frown deepened. "The blade's guardian? Large…" His eyes widened. "A giant! You intend to leave a giant or more to keep the blade save, aren't you?"

Azor-a Áh Hái shook his head. "No. A giant will not be enough to keep the Night King or his White Walkers at bay, should the wall and castle fall. They also don't do well when confined to one place. They are nomads, they survive by travelling. Confining them to the fort would kill them… and, most likely, the men manning the fortification. And they don't live nearly long enough. No, the guardian is something else."

R'hllor sighed. "He is not going to guess it, Azor-a Áh Hái. And… we are short on time."

Azor-a Áh Hái looked at his fellow greenseer, then sighed and nodded. "You are right, R'hllor. Time is running out." Gaze returning to Bran's ancestor, he spoke in a slow and somewhat low voice. "We don't have time to explain it all. What you need to know, Brandon Stark, is that we will leave a guardian to protect the blade. This guardian will go into hibernation until someone comes to claim the blade. But be warned: The guardian will accept no one but a greenseer… and that greenseer will have to prove worthy of the blade, or be destroyed."

His eyes drifting north, Azor-a Áh Hái spoke in a low voice. "Remember everything we told you, Chieftain Brandon Stark. And remember, that one day, when winter is coming, the dead may come with it."

Brandon nodded. "I will. May the gods protect us all and may…" He trailed off, frowning. "Is it me, or did it just get a lot colder?"

His ancestor was right, Bran noticed. He had ignored it up to now, but as the conversation between these past heroes had dragged on, it had become significantly colder. His mind swiftly connecting the clues, he stared around frantically, hoping against all odds to be wrong. His hopes, however, were dashed when both Children spoke.

"The enemy… he is here."

Barely had the two greenseers spoken the words before Bran's eyes spotted him. There, in the darkness behind his ancestor, a pair of icy blue eyes was staring right at him. The darkness thickened, forming the Night King and his armour as he walked forward, his great curvy blade glinting in the dark. Bran took several steps backwards, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. The staircase was too far away and there was no form of cover. However, just as the Night King walked past his ancestor, who didn't see nor reacted to the presence of the White Walker high lord, raising his blade for the kill, something strange happened. Azor-a Áh Hái and R'hllor both walked forward and waved their arms away from their hearts in the almost universal gesture of warding off evil. And suddenly, the Night King halted in his advance, the air around him bending as he tried walking forward.

Bran blinked in surprise and he wasn't the only one. The Night King didn't show his surprise, but he took a single step backwards, lowering his blade as clear cold blue eyes glanced at the two Children, before settling on Bran once more in a measuring stare. Raising his free hand, the Night King reached forward with outstretched fingers, but just like before, he was stopped by an invisible barrier. However, before he could breathe a sigh of relief, a low voice spoke up.

"You cannot rest and linger any more than we can, Brandon Stark." Eyes drifting from the Night King, the young Three-Eyed Raven almost gasped when his gaze landed on the two Children. Both greenseers were looking at him but, at the same time, their gaze was locked on his ancestor, seemingly staring right through the youngest Stark. And yet, when Azor-a Áh Hái spoke again, there was no doubt in Bran's mind that his words were meant for him "I wish we could stay longer, but time and speed is of the essence. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come. And may the gods protect you and yours. Farewell, Brandon Stark."

Then, darkness swept over the Wall.

0000

Many miles and years away, Bran Stark's eyes returned to their normal colour as his mind returned fully to his body. Taking a shuddering breath, Bran dully registered the sweat running down his back as his mind ran through all what he had seen, squashing down any hint of emotion that threatened to disturb his mind, be they fear over having come so close to the Night King once more, shock at all the secrets he had discovered, disbelief of what had happened all those years ago and how close recent events were connected… and lastly, he squashed down the hope that the pond in Winterfell's godswood would be able to heal his broken body.

All of those were squashed down, so that his mind could process what he had learned and come up with a course of action now that he knew his journey wasn't over. And if any had seen a hint of the turmoil going on within him in his eyes, as he squashed the emotions, they would now only see cold detachment as he spoke to one in particular.

"I have work to do."

 **End…. Maybe?**

 **This story will probably not go any further than this… and if it does, don't expect regular updates… at all. Will this be connected to Winter War? Unlikely. That, like this, was just a scene I had in my head that wouldn't leave me alone.**

 **Sorry for the lack of abbreviations. Been some time since I last watched the seasons, but if I recall correctly, most of the time they speak without abbreviations. I might go back and change this if I'm wrong.**

 **As said before, this should not be seen as a prediction one-shot/story. I have rarely read them, because they at this point all feel the same to me. If I wanted to read predictions for season 8, I would use google.**

 **This story sprang to mind because of several things:**

 **I am a huge Bran Stark fan (people who have received reviews from me in their GoT fics know this). One of my favourite moments from season 7 was him quoting Littlefinger right back in his face. I loved, and still do, Littlefinger as a character but damn if it wasn't satisfying watching the usually unflappable master plotter with a big WTF look on his face.**

 **Melisandre's admission in season six about being wrong. Well lady, if you were wrong about Stannis being Azor Ahai once, I really don't give much for you and the other fanatics in your cult proclaiming anyone being the Lord of Light's chosen or whatever.**

 **But it did get me thinking: Thousands of years are a long time. How many facts of the history were lost / changed due to the passing of time? And that made me think: Maybe Melisandre's prophecy/prediction crap was wrong because the prophecy was wrong from the very beginning (if it even existed).**

 **Try playing a little game with your friends (preferably if you are ten-fifteen people sitting around a table and maybe have had a little to drink). The game is simple: Whoever starts (A) whispers a small story/rumour (made up and with no intention to harm anyone) to his/her neighbour (B), making sure nobody else hears the story. The neighbour now passes the story on to the next in line (C), however: B must now decide whether to change a little thing in the story or add something to it. And on and on it goes until the story reaches A again. I wonder how much a story has changed by passing by 10-15 people in maybe an hour. Quite a lot I think, and I doubt even A will remember his/her part of the story. Makes you wonder how much that story could change if it was passed around people for more than 8,000 years.**

 **I'm a huge fan of irony. How ironic wouldn't it be if R'hllor and Azor Ahai, key figures in the Lord of Light religion (well, one is basically who the religion is based on) were actual people/beings from a religion considered being false by the followers of the Lord of Light? Would put them in quite the dilemma.**

 **Lord of Light fanatic "Your gods are false! The Lord of Light, R'hllor, is the one true god!"  
Child of Forest: "Dude… R'hllor was a one of us Children of the Forest and worshipped the old gods."**

 **My annoyance with the idea of Lightbringer. I have seen many fics where this legendary sword, apparently used to defeat the Great Other / The Night King is either Long Claw or other Valyrian steel sword in disguise waiting to be reactivated, hidden in Winterfell or some other major castle and how Jon will usually use it to vanquish the Night King and his entire legions with ease.**

 **Sorry for the rant.**

 **I wanted to play around a bit with some of the famous words/sayings of the GoT. Especially their origins and why. Like why "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." Probably just a warning/superstition of old, but what if it had a deeper meaning/reason?**

 **Now, to clear up a few things:**

 **Yes, Valyri was from what would become Valyria and that sword she had was the forerunner/early first version to the Valyrian steel swords.**

 **No, Valyri is/was NOT the ancestor to Daenerys. From what I have been able to gather, House Targaryen was an upstart among the nobles of Valyria.**

 **Anyways, hoped you enjoyed this other stray of mine I had into the GoT fandom.**


	2. Chapter 2

" _Ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and freighted with the memories and the dreams of Time."_  
― H. P. Lovecraft

" _All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was."_  
― Toni Morrison

Current of the Present

The winter breeze was ruffling his hair and gently caressing his face, while the water was gently rubbing against his bare throat, shoulders and chest, the wind moving through the leaves and his steady breathing the only sound to be heard in Godswood. And it had been so for hours… for days… for weeks… ever since his return to Winterfell.

Bran Stark closed his eyes, leaning his head against the edge of the pond. The breeze's caress, the leaves' rustling and the warm water encasing his upper body made for a combination of utter relaxation and serenity, perfect for a nap.

But sleeping was the last thing on the Three-Eyed Raven's mind. Admittedly, he had a lot going on in his mind, but first and foremost, he was working… working on aligning himself with the energy supposedly hidden in the water. But for weeks, if not months… time was such a vague concept to him now… it had eluded him.

He could feel the energy in the water and the tree, but every time he reached out with his mind to it, to better understand the nature of it, the energy in the water retreated further away and his mind was derailed towards the tree and to places near and far away… both in time and space.

The human part of his mind that cared was deeply troubled, saddened, frustrated and disbelieving at what he saw.

To name a few, he was troubled and frustrated by the inactivity by the lords and maesters and their foolish games, conspiracies and petty conflicts over who was in the right and who should sit the Iron Throne, when he had sent warnings about the approach of the Night King and his army. It was the only thing that should matter, to unite against a common foe… yet they stuck to their internal fighting and scheming.

He was saddened by the deaths of Osha, Shaggydog, Summer, Jojen, Leaf and the other Children of the Forest. Saddened by the death of all the innocents in the current war for the Iron Throne. Saddened by his little brother's coma and slim chances of reawakening… the little brother he had tried to protect by sending him to the Umber's… who ultimately killed Shaggydog and handed Rickon and Osha over to the Bolton bastard.

Yes, Rickon survived, if only barely. Bran had seen Jon riding the horse towards the youngest Stark, only for an arrow to hit the boy. But they had been lucky. Rickon had, in the absolute last second, moved his body to the side so that the shot in itself wasn't fatal. But it could have been.

The pain had caused Rickon to lose consciousness, and it was only due to sheer and utter luck that Rickon hadn't been trampled or otherwise injured.

And if not for the defected Bolton maester, he would have died… either by his injury remaining untreated, or the fact that he would have either been buried or burned alive. As it was, the maester, being a trained healer, had detected the weakening heartbeat and breath of the youngster and instantly set to work. In the end, Rickon was alive, but had yet to awake.

Bran almost let out a sigh. Almost. Aside from the lords and ladies of Westeros acting like, as Jon, or should he call him Aegon, as eloquently put it, children squabbling over a game, screaming about the rules not being fair, he was also frustrated by the shortsightedness, mistrust and, ironically enough, naivety of the lords and ladies. Some, like Arya, Sansa and Cersei trusted no one but their family… others, like Jon, or Aegon, and Tyrion and Jaime Lannister, were gullible enough to believe that the likes of Cersei Lannister would aid them in the Long Night.

Their shortsightedness, and combination of mistrust and naivety, led him to his feelings of disbelief. He had seen the so-called Dragon Queen taking her dragons north of the Wall, on an ill-conceived rescue mission to save those who set out on an even more ill-conceived mission, to bring proof of the Army of the Dead.

A mission that turned disastrous, in ways that those involved were yet to comprehend. People died on that mission, they failed, as many could have told them, to convince Cersei to send help, and Daenerys lost one of her dragons to the Night King, who now had it as his personal steed and had just broken down Wall. The only good thing to come out of that mission was that Daenerys, for the time being anyway, vowed to fight against the undead legions.

'For the time being anyway'… it troubled Bran greatly. Through his tutelage under his mentor and all of what he had seen afterwards, the phrase 'for the time being anyway' was one of the patterns that repeated itself the most when it came to the minds and emotion of Men. For instance, marriages were made to make allies… but only as long both parts involved thought they were getting the better part of the deal or events later down the road erased their memory of their vows. Another instance: a common enemy. They saw it when Aegon the Conqueror came to Westeros, and they saw it again years later with the Mad King; powerful houses allied to fight a common enemy, but whether they were defeated or victories, they and all else soon went back to the same old game; fighting over land, wealth, power, love, moral high ground, religion. Open war tore apart the country and ruined lives… but so did the aftermath, though the destruction could be far harder to spot. It was a vicious circle, and Men had been unable to break it for generations.

Another pattern mankind had been unable to break: Their want for more than what they already had.

Bran himself had been guilty of this. He had wanted to see more of his family and of the creation of the Night King, and he had wandered too far. His mistake had cost the lives of his mentor, Leaf and the other Children their sanctuary and had somehow, his mental link between the past and present, made Hodor what he was.

Bran had learned from those experiences: When traveling the waters of time, you had to keep your emotions in check. Fear, anger, love… all the same, they would betray you going down the river, and instead of you traveling down the river in a controlled matter, seeing all the bends and obstacles, the river would carry you down its length, unforgivingly smashing you into rocks, trees or the riverbed until you drowned or were otherwise destroyed.

So Bran shut down his emotions, or at least as best he could… and in return, his sight and control of his powers increased. And with it, he spotted another pattern… and really, maybe it was the oldest of them all: Men and women often desired the one they thing they could not have, and more often than not could accept it when they couldn't have it.

Prime examples were Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark, Robert Baratheon and Petyr Baelish.

The three first could not accept that they could have what their hearts desired, and when two of them tried anyway, it was the first spark that would ignite the flames of war once more. As for Petyr Baelish: He too desired what he couldn't have… Catelyn Stark and the Iron Throne… his love and ultimate power… and when Catelyn died, his obsession moved to Sansa.

Bran was barely conflicted about any of them. Their actions, directly or indirectly, caused wars that cost thousands of lives, all because they couldn't accept what they already had and couldn't accept that they couldn't have the one thing they desired.

The only one Bran was slightly conflicted about was Petyr Baelish, having actually met the man. The human part of him that cared about such things were glad that Littlefinger was dead; he had caused his family so much suffering, and that part of him was somewhat satisfied that he had helped avenge the wrongs done against his family.

Another part of him, however, was saddened. Not because of the man itself dying, but because it proved another realization, the conclusion he had drawn from the other realizations.

He had tried warning Baelish… tried warning him that his plans for getting Sansa and the Iron Throne would fail. Baelish had been in way over his head, and he should have realized it.

Chaos is a ladder… those were Baelish's words to the Spider, and Bran had repeated them to Baelish as a warning... and a threat. Baelish was the mockingbird Azor-a Áh Hái had seen… and the mockingbird had landed in the wolf den, an ever-observant raven watching from above and afar. The mockingbird may be able to lead the wolves, lions and other great animals by the nose and yank their tails, but the raven would not be tricked so easily, and that to the raven, the mockingbird was, at best, a minor annoyance and at worst, in the great scheme of things, a nuisance.

Yes, chaos could be a ladder… if one understood to climb it and adapt to the very nature of chaos. Baelish had climbed the ladder, to great success, one might add, but as he climbed, his gaze focused on the top, and he forgot to keep an eye on the foundation and the ladder itself… he forgot to adapt.

The ladder was built on chaos, and as Baelish climbed, he adapted to the changes in the ladder and foundation on which it stood. But once the foundation turned more solid, more stable, as the players for the throne were eliminated, Baelish grew too sure of himself and he forgot to keep an eye on the foundation and near parts of the ladder, making him forget to adapt to the changes.

Baelish should have realized what he was up against: His student, Sansa, whom had seen his mechanisms first-hand, and took all of his lessons to heart. Arya, a trained assassin, who could smell a lie miles away. Baelish may have been able to lead them by the noses by bending the truth and his experience, playing on their insecurities, thoughts and emotions, but against Bran and his powers, he stood no chance. There was no lying and bending of the truth, no manipulation of the mind and heart that Bran wouldn't have seen through.

And Baelish was alone. No friends in court who would help him, no Robin Arryn who would kick up a storm over his fate. Bran had tried warning him that he was way in over his head and that it would be in his best interest to stop while he could. But he hadn't, proving Bran's final conclusion,

As a race, Men, in their nature, were fickle, forgetful and absent-minded creatures of habit, bound to repeat the mistakes of the past again and again.

'I guess I should not be so surprised' Bran mused. 'Water will always run downwards and towards the ocean, no matter the path and the obstacles. It may take a year, hundreds of years, or maybe even a thousand years, but the water will always find the ocean, for it is its nature. No matter what you do, the nature of water will not change. Build a dam, attempt to redirect the river… it will find a way towards the ocean… not even the powerful magic of the Children could change the nature of the water. They raised the Hammer of the Waters twice, and both times the water returned to the ocean. Likewise, one cannot change the nature of humans. No matter how much time passes, Men will always pursue their own interests first, easily forgetting the mistakes made by their ancestors and inevitably repeating them, and will easily forget the things they share… family… friends… and the feeling of rage and hatred when they are taken from them, killed in a conflict by the interests of the few. In every war ever fought, be it for love, power, wealth, religion… it is always the many that end up paying the price for the want of the few.'

"And now that you know that, young raven, what will you do?"

Bran opened his eyes, brown, almost black eyes, meeting smoldering yellow. The yellow eyes belonged to a Child of the Forest, sitting right across from Bran. Though, the Child was unlike any Bran had seen before. For starters, the Child had shoulder-length green hair. That itself was not so strange. What was unique was the Child's body. It could have been the Child's skin and the light and pond playing a trick on his mind, but water seemed to twirl around the Child's body, making Bran unable to tell body and clothes apart... or if the Child even was wearing clothes. In fact, the only thing Bran could tell clearly apart was the eyes and hair, the yellow eyes staring unblinkingly at him.

Bran stared at the Child for a moment, his mind and senses reaching outwards… not surprisingly, the only lifeform he detected was the Child… except that the Child had no heartbeat, just like there no longer was any wind. Only the heat of the water seemed to remain the same… if not for the Child seemingly sitting atop the water surface, gazing at Bran impassively. Tilting his head slightly, the young Three-Eyed Raven met the gaze of the Child.

"R'hllian, Chieftain of the Water… you are dead; died over eight thousand years ago."

A parting under the yellow eyes told Bran where the mouth was, the voice as quiet and peaceful as a stream in the forest. "Correct, young raven Brandon Stark. I was killed more than eight thousand years ago, in this very pond. Killed by Men, when I refused to cure their leader's blindness... a blindness in his eyes, caused by the blindness of his mind. Then again… not all have the eyesight of the raven… especially not one with three eyes. Do you know what the three yes represent?"

The answer came easily to Bran. "Past, present, future; an eye for each."

R'hllian let out a chuckle, her body and the pond rippling. "Correct again, young raven. But you are only scratching the surface of the meaning of the three eyes of the Three-Eyed Raven… and the Three-Eyed Raven's meaning." She tilted her head. "You have many questions… some of them I can answer, some of them I will not… but you have yet to answer my question: Now that you have come to realize that it always is the many that pays the price for the want of the few and you cannot change the nature of Men no more than you can change the nature of water, what will you do? You are a Man too, are you not? So when you know that you cannot change your very own nature, what will you do?"

Bran stared into her eyes, the both of them unflinching, emotionless. There was no anticipation in the eyes of R'hllian, no anger at having been killed by Man, no expectation that Bran would prove her prejudices right… likewise, Bran's eyes held no trace of fear of proving her right, no pity for her having been killed by his race. Bran was, however, the first to close his eyes, mulling over his answer.

For how long he sat there, he didn't know… but when he found his answer, he spoke slowly and his voice was measured.

"I cannot change the nature of water, nor can I change the nature of Men… I cannot change it, no more than I can change the nature of life and death… poor or rich, peasant or royal… all Men will die at some point. Even with all the medical knowledge and all of the magical powers in the world combined, it cannot be done." He opened his eyes, once more meeting the gaze of R'hllian. "It cannot be changed… but it can be harnessed and directed… if only for a time. Leaf did it with the Night King… creating an ageless creature of destruction… they killed that man, and created something far more dangerous."

R'hllian nodded, a tinge of sadness creeping into her eyes. "Indeed… they gave death a form… but as you said, one cannot change the nature of life and death. They harnessed that power and controlled it… for a time… but as you know, they lost control and released death incarnate upon the world… and now the Night King roams again, unchecked and unchallenged, stronger than ever. But you have yet to answer my question… what will you do?"

"The only thing I can do: Harness my powers and direct them and the nature of Men against the Night King… and should we be successful and vanquish him… I do not know what I will do. Some may ask my help, other may try demanding my allegiance… neither is something I can give. If we defeat the Night King, another war will follow immediately afterwards… and if I help any of them, I will just be aiding them in repeating the same mistakes over and over again, ushering in a new time of chaos, death and destruction… and that is just the short term. The long term… it is still hidden in the fog, like a rock around the corner of a river. So… I suppose I will try and guide them, should they ask for it."

The deceased Child nodded. "A good answer to a very difficult question… and you delved a bit further into the role of the Three-Eyed Raven."

Bran tilted his head, if only a fraction. "The Three-Eyed Raven… is a guide… a keeper of the past… a teacher."

R'hllian nodded. "A guide… a teacher… but it is also a guardian." She closed her eyes for a moment, the yellow disappearing for a few seconds, before opening them again, meeting Bran's steady gaze head-on

"The three eyes of the raven… as you said, it has an eye for the past, present, future. But it is much more than that. The three eyes are for the earth, water and air… for chaos, order and balance… for life, death and the in-between… for the physical and spiritual realm and the realm between them… the Three-Eyed Raven sees it all… and protects it."

Bran frowned slightly. "The Three-Eyed Raven… my predecessor… never mentioned any of this… neither did Leaf or any of the other Children there."

R'hllian nodded again. "Your mentor did not know… and even if he had, he would have known that his role would only be to teach you the fundamental."

Bran's frown deepened, shock and confusion making their presence known for the first time in a long time. "The fundamental?"

For the third time, R'hllian nodded. "Yes. He knew, just as every greenseer who have seen you in their dreams, that your power would far surpass his own. Even now, with your crippled body, your powers surpass anything he could have hoped to achieve. He was there to teach you to understand the essentials of that power… unfortunately, he never got to teach you as much as he was meant to… and I fear you will have to harness that power yourself. Power that you will need in the coming battles."

Bran was silent for a moment, mulling over her words and his thoughts, before speaking again. "But I cannot fight. As you said, my body is crippled. I gave away a Valyrian steel dagger because it would be wasted on a cripple."

R'hllian smiled, this time, a strange small time. "Indeed, your body is crippled. But your mind is not… and it has served you well so far. And it will continue to do so, in ways that even you cannot imagine… and, if I am right, not even Azor-a Áh Hái, R´hllor or I could have foreseen possible for a human. But first, let me tell you more about the Three-Eyed Raven."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Bran felt a surge of impatience run through him. However, he knew that to fully understand his present, and most likely his future, he would need to know more about the past… and that included the meaning and history of the Three-Eyed Raven. So with a slight incline of his head, he let R'hllian continue.

"As I said, your predecessor did not know. As for Leaf… poor Leaf, she knew but did not tell you or your mentor… she knew it was not her place to tell you before you were ready… because she knew you would be needed to fight her creation… the Night King… but not before you were ready to do so." She sighed. "The Andals saw the ravens as ill omens, heralding defeat and death. The First Men saw them as messengers from the gods, also heralding death. But they, like you earlier, were just scratching the surface. To us Children, the ravens were friends… and the children of the Raven Chieftain… the Three-Eyed Raven… our guide and guardian sent by the gods themselves, blessing the Greenseers with sight and magic to help their people."

Bran's frown deepened. "A guardian… the very word implies defending something, fighting if need be… but I cannot fight the Night King… at least not directly. The only thing I can do is be an advisor and keeping track of him… but he can find me just as easily."

"That will not be enough. You need to fight him in the field. But as you are now, the living will lose. The Night King has brought down the Wall, and he and the vanguard of his army is now marching past. But he has summoned his entire army to him now… and not just undead Men and Giants, but Ice spiders, beasts and his generals… five times the numbers currently accompanying him, if not more. You are outnumbered, and you do not have enough magical power to repel him. Before, the Night King had power over cold, air and earth… now, he also has power over fire. The living side, however, only has fire… and far from enough to make a difference."

Bran nodded. "So… out best chance is to lure him into a trap and kill him."

R'hllian shook her head. "Without the zīrtys perzys blade hidden in the largest castle by the Wall, it will not make a difference. You may be able to wound him, but not destroy him for good. No, you need to level the field where you can. You cannot hope to outnumber him… so you need to even the field in magical power."

"How? By controlling air, water and earth?"

R'hllian shook her head. "No. At least not earth. Too difficult, requires too much strength for just one to handle… even for a warg as powerful as you."

Bran's frown deepened. "A warg as powerful as me? What does being a warg…" his eyes widened when a possible theory hit him. "Unless… being a warg is more than just controlling animals."

A pleased smile crossed R'hllian's features. "You are correct, young raven. Controlling animals are just the surface of what a warg can do… especially if that warg is also a greenseer. You know of the Hammer of the Waters, correct?" Bran gave a slight nod. "That was us greenseers, all wargs, and led by myself, who put our minds into the great water and raised it." She sighed. "As you probably know, we tried it twice to halt Men's advance… twice we failed. But fact remains the same. The wargs who are greenseers, and if they are powerful enough, can put their minds into the elements themselves and direct that tremendous power… and soon, so will you."

Bran gave the Child a slightly pointed look, incredulity in his gaze and voice. "Even if I accept what you say is true… I do not have the time to learn. The Night King is coming, and he outclasses me in every way. Physical strength, speed, experience… you and the others had years, centuries, maybe even thousands of years to learn… I have, at best, weeks… and that would only be one element… and it would likely be an element the Night King can control as well."

R'hllian nodded, this time, a teasing smile twisting her features. "Indeed, the odds are against you… but then again, they have always been against you. Very few humans would imagine a cripple going beyond the Wall and surviving… yet you did. And it is true… on your own, you stand no chance… not as you are now. And it is true… on your own, you would be likely to choose an element the Night King already have great power over… and you would likely choose an element that, in very few places, would make a difference against him and his army. What element would you choose?"

Bran gave R'hllian a thoughtful look, mulling over her words and his own thoughts. "I would most likely go with water. It can be found many places in varying masses… I imagine it is easier to move than the earth, but stronger than air against larger groups of enemies… but against the Night King in a direct duel, I imagine the air is too difficult to focus. And as long as he is in the sky on his dragon, water cannot hit him."

Once again, the Child gave a pleased smile. "Correct again, young raven. It is just as you said. Water would be your likely candidate, and you should choose it… at a later time. But you as say, it cannot harm the Night King while he is in the air. Right now, the enemy has all the advantages. He has the numbers, magic, and dominion on the ground and in the air. You cannot outnumber him and rob him of the ground control… so you need to level the field regarding magic and rob him of his control in the air. And to do that, you need a powerful offense… and it needs to be something he will not expect… and something he cannot counter." Then, a serious look crossed her face. "I am sure you remember what I said… that you would achieve something that not even Azor-a Áh Hái, R´hllor or I thought possible for a human… and what only the three of us have achieved mastery of... that is that offense… the one thing the Night King may not be able to counter… the fire in the sky."

Bran's frown deepened a little, before his eyes widened in realization. "The fire in the sky… lightning?"

R'hllian nodded, eyes still serious. "Yes. Lightning. The lightning possess tremendous amount of speed and power… enough to slow down the Night King… and you will need that kind of magic and power to stand a chance against him. But be warned… to control that sort of power… it requires a focused mind and an amount of energy flowing through your body only seen in the Night King and the most powerful of greenseers. But for you to acquire the latter… I must heal your broken body… and that comes with a cost."

Bran's eyes narrowed. A part of him knew that R'hllian most likely wouldn't joke about something like that. And a part of him had accepted that he would never walk again… and yet, R'hllian's words had rekindled some ember of hope within him. Hope that, despite everything he had been told since he lost the use of his legs, that he would walk again. However, R'hllian's wording… it sounded like she wanted something in return.

"What kind of cost? If you are as interested in defeating the Night King as you claim, most would assume you would do it for free."

The deceased greenseer chuckled. "I am, and I will. But it will cost you something. It will cost you your family, friends… your humanity." At Bran's dark look, she chuckled again. "Be at ease, young raven. I will not have your family and friends as sacrifices. This pond possesses enough energy to heal your body without them. The reason I say it will cost you those things is because your body, and your mind, will not be able to handle that sort of power coursing through you. When you were crippled, your power was crippled as well. It did not grow naturally as you aged, and it was hindered in flowing naturally, building up. If I heal you, it will mean re-breaking your bones and instantly realigning and healing them again, making the energy flow through you as it was supposed to. Your body will need time to adjust. Not just to the sensation of it flowing as it was supposed to, but also to the amount. As will your mind. If your thoughts react to your emotions, like love, anger, hate, fear… it could be disastrous." She paused. "Do you understand? In order to obtain that sort of power… you have to lose yourself to it."

Bran frowned, closing his eyes in thought. He had shut down a lot of his emotions in order to quiet his mind so that he could order the visions he saw, be they from the past, present or future, making him seem uncaring to most. He wasn't, but his mind was focused on other things than showing that he cared, mainly on stopping the Night King and keeping track of what he saw, but his emotions were always there, buried. Now he learned that in order to stand a chance against the Night King, he would have to shed the last part of Brandon Stark… and he didn't know if he was fully ready to do that. Then again, if ceasing to exist as Brandon Stark of Winterfell was what was necessary to stand a chance against the Night King, it should be a sacrifice he should be willing to take. So why didn't he jump right into it? Probably, because that deep, deep down, he was afraid. Afraid of losing himself like that… afraid of death. He had never truly learned to fight. Only through Summer and Hodor had he been able to fight, and he knew it would be very different controlling his own lithe body compared to Hodor's bulk or Summer's compact form.

Opening his eyes, he met R'hllian's gaze. "If you heal me… how much stronger will I become?"

The Child tilted her head. "It will be like you never lost the use of your legs in the first place… as for your magical power… I guess it would increase tenfold, if not more."

Bran took a deep breath. "And will it be enough to defeat the Night King?"

The Chieftain of the Water shook her head. "It will give you a fighting chance… even I do not know if it will be enough to beat him. But before you make your decision, there is something you should know. If the Night King wins, the world will freeze over. If he is defeated and those of dragon-blood… you know of whom I speak… if they are allowed to go unchallenged, the world will burn."

Bran felt a surge of protectiveness for Jon coursing through him, and he narrowed his gaze as the Child stood up and walked across the water before sitting down again within her arm's reach of him. "What do you mean?"

The Child, apparently unconcerned with his tone, answered calmly. "As you have come to realize, Men will always put their own interests before others, repeating the same mistakes again and again. The one who think herself a dragon is nothing but a Man, and she is completely ruled by her desire for what Men call the Iron Throne and her emotions. And she has never truly been told no… at least not by someone still alive. And she has fire on her side. The other, raised among the direwolves, is also ruled by his emotions and cannot see the other dragon's colours and will only say no when it is too late. And once he learns the truth, he will have to make a choice: Dragon or direwolf. Not about whom he wants to be, but about whom he loves the most. But the question to you is: Who will you be and what will you do? Will you be Brandon Stark of Winterfell, or will you be the Three-Eyed Raven?"

Once more, Bran closed his eyes, trying to order his thoughts. He didn't want to lose himself, he didn't want to die, he didn't want to fight Jon should it come to it. However, if he didn't do it, the Night King had as good as won. And if he didn't become the Three-Eyed Raven, a true Three-Eyed Raven, he would be dishonouring those who had died for him. And if he did, they may have a fighting chance; a chance to save humanity from extinction. And that, as hopeless as it seemed, was a duty all Men carried.

'Family, Duty, Honor… the words of House Tully… my mother's house. Family means nothing when fighting the Night King... and he has no honor… but we as a race have a duty to fight him… especially me. There is no choice really. True winter is coming, and I have a duty to fight it… not for family or honor, but for all living.'

Opening his eyes, he answered in his monotone voice. "I will become the Three-Eyed Raven… I will fight the Night King."

R'hllian didn't smile. Instead, she gave him a stern look. "The role of Three-Eyed Raven is not to be undertaken lightly. It involves a lot of responsibility… not just to the few, but to the many… and it is for life. Once you accept… there is no going back… or you will end up worse than the Night King."

Bran frowned slightly. "Worse than the Night King… tell me something: Who is, or rather was, the Night King?"

A slight smile appeared on her R'hllian's face. "That, young raven, is a question I will not answer." Her smile disappeared. "I ask you again: What will you choose? Will you remain what you are? Or will you become the Three-Eyed Raven?"

Bran, killing his frustration at not having his answered question answered and already cutting ties with his emotions, steeled his resolve. "I will become the Three-Eyed Raven. I will fight the Night King… and the dragons if need be… even if it means destroying them."

The deceased greenseer nodded her head. "Then let it be so." Reaching out her right hand, she placed it upon Bran's forehead, and he instantly felt the water swirling around him. R'hllian spoke in a quiet voice. "Goodbye, Brandon Stark of Winterfell. You came as a direwolf… leave now… as a raven." Instantly, she closed her fingers save her index and middle finger, poking Bran in the forehead with enough force to send his head backwards. "Arise, Three-Eyed Raven. And may the gods be with you."

00000

The Three-Eyed Raven opened his eyes with a yell, water flooding into his mouth. Pain, searing pain unlike any he had ever felt was coursing through his body, especially through his lower back, and water was pushing mercilessly against it from the outside and flooding his lungs, making every breath more painful than the last. Closing his mouth and spotting a flash of light overhead, the Three-Eyed Raven took a few powerful strokes and kicked himself upwards, gasping as he broke through the water surface and pulled his upper body onto the shore. Expelling the water from his lungs, the Three-Eyed Raven heaved himself fully onto the forest floor, his legs giving him the extra boost. He barely registered the cold air or his own heaving body. He had the use of his legs back… and a fight coming. Those were all thoughts he registered, before he passed out.

It was like this, lying as naked as the day he was born, that the Winterfell maester, Arya, Sansa and a few guards found, him. And in their hurry to cover him up in blankets and getting him inside, none of them noticed the thunderstorm brewing overhead, until two lightning bolts split the sky. And as such, they didn't notice the storms and lightning bolts forming something: A raven… with three eyes.

 **The end? Most likely. I only wrote this chapter as to see if I feel I can still write something of just decent quality.**

 **To answer the guest reviews.**

Moshi chapter 1 . Dec 4, 2017

One, please continue, this has such potential. Two, oh sweet baby Jesus I hear you on some of your rants (though my theory of Lightbringer is Dawn from House Dayne). I do think there is something more to the words: There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, asked on Reddit but most just think it's something Ned said or just words with no special meaning, but so far no other family seems to have said this. Always thought there was something special about Winterfell too. Oh this fic is hitting so many of the magical aspects that surround the Stark family. Also, could that pool potentially heal Bran?

 **No promise if I will continue this fic further than this. But glad you think it had potential. And glad you think it touched on some of the more magical aspects around the Starks… and the GoT world in general.**

Guest chapter 1 . Dec 9, 2017

No offence, and I don't want to sound controlling, but can you update Dark Phoenix instead of writing other stuff? It's still good, but...

 **I did… three or four months after posting chapter 1**


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